Ari Anne Flit

share of the cake

you can’t have your cake and
eat it too, I know but
can I be spared the whiplash of
hands pressing on nape?
the classroom shame of
frosting dripping from brows?

you can’t have your cake and
eat it too, I know but
could I get a piece, please?
vow to thwart greedy efforts to penetrate
the skin-deep decorative layer, to take
what leaves a whole
that is forever changed
i’ll sing in tune, i’ll be good
I promise a single slice will do.

you can’t have your cake and
eat it too, I now know
that circumvention has only led us
down concentric circles, cloisters
shepherding me to the cross
whose measurements I know by heart
yet another vignette
of my cake-topper life
candles encroaching my hope
burning me down to a wistful crisp
and long days
sporting melting wax on thighs
on the off chance it’d spark
a golden shaft of gratitude, esteem
even affection
from you.

you can’t have your cake and
eat it too, I should’ve known
you’ve never heeded a recipe
or a prayer, my table top hymns
falling on ears stuffed shut
I’ve grown tired after all these years
of static seesaw dinners
after all these years of pleading
and standing in place
I owe it to myself
to have some cake, something other
than the taste of iron
in my mouth.